I haven't had a mobile phone for two years. Back then, I was the guy with the phone - I always had it, I always let people borrow it, and I was getting a new one every few months because I sold them for a living. It was a slight shock, going from "the guy with the phone" in highschool, where having a phone elevated you to slightly mystical status, to being "the guy without the phone" in college, where everyone has a phone, and not having one leaves people feeling vaguely uncomfortable around you, as though you have some sort of semi-contagious disease.
On a whim (well, slightly more than a whim, more of a sudden urge that made so much sense it hurt), I purchased one today. I gave it careful consideration, because I needed to sign a two-year contract. But in the end, it's the best choice. The fact that I'll be driving solo down to Kansas City in a couple of days and the aforementioned social necessity swung the vote. It's just under $1000 that I've committed for the next two years, but the marginal utility outweighs the marginal cost.
That's the logical reason behind it. The emotional one is that phones are so damned cool. I can start a conversation sittin at home feeling hungry, drive to McDonald's, get a cheeseburger, and end the conversation sitting at home in the same spot, no longer hungry. My phone used to be an extension of me. It was my ears and my mouth that could listen and talk with people hundreds of miles away. It was like being cut off from the world without it. I think that's why I took to instant messaging so well - it was the closest I could come to being integrated so easily and so constantly into my social circle. Now it has returned.
I walk out of store where I used to work with the phone in my left pocket, just like old times. Its weight counters the weight of my wallet and keys. Once again I have balance in my pants. Once again I have balance in my life. It comforts me. I've become re-acquainted with an old friend who had been gone so long I hadn't even realized I missed him. Am I addicted?
I Hope I Die Before I Get Old
The immortal words of The Who that grace the title of this post are a bit of an exaggeration, but I had a minor taste of old age last Wednesday, and the old saying that "youth is wasted on the young" suddenly seem less like the jealous mutterings of old people but perhaps heart-felt sighs from the same.
I was so incredibly sore (from a combination of running more than I should have, jetskiing, and having a nasty cold) that walking was a chore. I was shuffling along like an old man, wincing every step. I called off of work and went in to the store to equip myself for the misery that is being sick and sore.
Supermarkets are designed to require as little thought as possible. I'm sure that most people don't think twice about a shopping trip to Wal-mart or Meijer - you realize you need something, then there's a brief gap in your life of maybe half an hour, then you have what you needed. It's automatic, and so easy and efficient that you might as well forget it ever happened, except for the fact that you have a little less money and a little more of whatever product you needed.
Not so with those for whom walking itself is painful. I shuffled in, and tried leaning on the cart, but that just transferred the pain to my back and arm muscles, which were more sore than the legs because of the strengthening the legs have gone through due to my recent running regimen. I wandered about the pharmacy department, and found vitamins, Dayquil, and Advil. Then I found a few cartons of bottled water in the aisle. It was painful to lift them into the cart, but possible.
Then I started looking for the tissues. I looked up and down the pharmacy aisles. Nothing. Perhaps a little further down? Past the pet supplies? Nothing. I decide to swallow my pride (which had already been dealt a body blow by the fact that I looked completely ridiculous shuffling along with my cart) and ask an attendant for directions. Now, to find one...
Finding one, it turns out, is easy. They're all over the place. But the problem is that they are constantly moving. This is where I started getting really frustrated, and started to feel real sympathy for the elderly. They were walking too fast for me. I could have yelled out to one, but I couldn't toss away the last scap of pride that I had. I might as well stand outside and start panhandling. I followed one, hoping she would stop to arrange something, but she disappeared down an aisle, and when I caught up, she was gone. I tried to catch another one, but he was in a hurry and I quite seriously could not keep up with him.
I started thinking more and more about the plight of the elderly. Those "I've fallen and I can't get up!" scenarios seem less like a joke and more like hell on earth. I wasn't so sore that I couldn't have gotten up from the ground, but I understood just how frustrating - and dangerous - such a situation could be. I suddenly had a better appreciation for just how much a physical handicap can limit one's ability to do tasks that, to me, are so mundane as to be forgettable.
Eventually, I found an attendant who was standing still, and she informed me that the tissues were in the other corner of the store. I grimaced a bit, and prepared for the long shuffle.
Epilogue
It took me two trips to get everything from my car to my room, mainly because the water was heavy. I sat and did nothing all day, except to eat every now and then, and to drink lots of water. The vitamins and Advil helped immensely with the soreness, and as of tomorrow, I'll be well enough to start running again. This week has changed me. No longer am I a cocky young 'un, tooting my horn at the girls and listening to my "rock and roll" music. I've learned why old people are grumpy all of the time, and that knowledge has sobered me. I suppose if any lessons can be taken from this, they are, "don't catch a cold," and, "don't get old."
I was so incredibly sore (from a combination of running more than I should have, jetskiing, and having a nasty cold) that walking was a chore. I was shuffling along like an old man, wincing every step. I called off of work and went in to the store to equip myself for the misery that is being sick and sore.
Supermarkets are designed to require as little thought as possible. I'm sure that most people don't think twice about a shopping trip to Wal-mart or Meijer - you realize you need something, then there's a brief gap in your life of maybe half an hour, then you have what you needed. It's automatic, and so easy and efficient that you might as well forget it ever happened, except for the fact that you have a little less money and a little more of whatever product you needed.
Not so with those for whom walking itself is painful. I shuffled in, and tried leaning on the cart, but that just transferred the pain to my back and arm muscles, which were more sore than the legs because of the strengthening the legs have gone through due to my recent running regimen. I wandered about the pharmacy department, and found vitamins, Dayquil, and Advil. Then I found a few cartons of bottled water in the aisle. It was painful to lift them into the cart, but possible.
Then I started looking for the tissues. I looked up and down the pharmacy aisles. Nothing. Perhaps a little further down? Past the pet supplies? Nothing. I decide to swallow my pride (which had already been dealt a body blow by the fact that I looked completely ridiculous shuffling along with my cart) and ask an attendant for directions. Now, to find one...
Finding one, it turns out, is easy. They're all over the place. But the problem is that they are constantly moving. This is where I started getting really frustrated, and started to feel real sympathy for the elderly. They were walking too fast for me. I could have yelled out to one, but I couldn't toss away the last scap of pride that I had. I might as well stand outside and start panhandling. I followed one, hoping she would stop to arrange something, but she disappeared down an aisle, and when I caught up, she was gone. I tried to catch another one, but he was in a hurry and I quite seriously could not keep up with him.
I started thinking more and more about the plight of the elderly. Those "I've fallen and I can't get up!" scenarios seem less like a joke and more like hell on earth. I wasn't so sore that I couldn't have gotten up from the ground, but I understood just how frustrating - and dangerous - such a situation could be. I suddenly had a better appreciation for just how much a physical handicap can limit one's ability to do tasks that, to me, are so mundane as to be forgettable.
Eventually, I found an attendant who was standing still, and she informed me that the tissues were in the other corner of the store. I grimaced a bit, and prepared for the long shuffle.
Epilogue
It took me two trips to get everything from my car to my room, mainly because the water was heavy. I sat and did nothing all day, except to eat every now and then, and to drink lots of water. The vitamins and Advil helped immensely with the soreness, and as of tomorrow, I'll be well enough to start running again. This week has changed me. No longer am I a cocky young 'un, tooting my horn at the girls and listening to my "rock and roll" music. I've learned why old people are grumpy all of the time, and that knowledge has sobered me. I suppose if any lessons can be taken from this, they are, "don't catch a cold," and, "don't get old."
Irony
A few days ago, I was driving out to a friend's lake cottage for jet-skiing and drinking. Not too far from my house, I slammed on the brakes as a chipmunk ran out into the road, crossing to the woods on the other side. I managed to slow down enough that it passed unscathed.
Accelerating again, the thought of chipmunks brought back all sorts of childhood memories... Chip and Dale from the Rescue Rangers, Alvin and the Chipmunks... I felt pretty good for myself, having spared the life of the poor little guy. After all, it was no trouble for me to slow down a bit for a fellow mammal. Yeah, I had done the right thing.
There was no one with me to confirm, but I'm sure I got that far-away look in my eye as I contemplated my good deed. I didn't literally pat myself on my back, but I sure was thinking it. A slight smile on my face, I nodded a bit and look to the road ahead.
...and on it was another chipmunk, of which I only had a glimpse before it disappeared under my right tire.
Accelerating again, the thought of chipmunks brought back all sorts of childhood memories... Chip and Dale from the Rescue Rangers, Alvin and the Chipmunks... I felt pretty good for myself, having spared the life of the poor little guy. After all, it was no trouble for me to slow down a bit for a fellow mammal. Yeah, I had done the right thing.
There was no one with me to confirm, but I'm sure I got that far-away look in my eye as I contemplated my good deed. I didn't literally pat myself on my back, but I sure was thinking it. A slight smile on my face, I nodded a bit and look to the road ahead.
...and on it was another chipmunk, of which I only had a glimpse before it disappeared under my right tire.
The Benefits of Open-Source Software
A friend wrote this a few days ago, directly inspired by a conversation we had a few years ago. Nominally, it was written about someone else, but it is just as easily applicable to me. I suppose all of us Linux crazies are all alike...
The hot, dry Texas wind rolled lazily through the window of his high perch. Sweat was pouring down his face in torrents now, but he no longer cared. Quickly he chambered another round into his M50 sniper rifle, and taking only a moment to pull back his mullet, lined up his next shot in the scope. The radio crackled as one song ended and the next one began: a track by Lynyrd Skynyrd. The sweet strains of Freebird filled the clock tower - how very appropriate. Overhead the new helicopters whumped and filmed, while below a motley detachment from the university police department tried to break into tower. [He] chuckled to himself and took another pull from his bottle of Southern Comfort. Amateurs. He would show them, he would show all of them. In a bold move he tossed the rifle aside and stood up to taunt the circling helicopters. “YOU CLOSED-SOURCE COCKSUCKERS!” He bellowed. “OPEN SOURCE IS THE WAVE OF THE FUCKING FUTURE! EMBRACE IT OR DIE, MOTHERFUCKERS!” With that he let loose with a wild rebel yell, flipped the helicopters the bird and shouldered an AGM-114 Hellfire anti-air missile with a Linux penguin crudely drawn on the nose cone. As he sighted it on the now wildly evading helicopters, he couldn’t help but laugh. They would learn. One way or another they would learn the benefits of open source software.In case any of you were wondering, there is no way that this fictional account will ever happen... I hate mullets.
I Don't Know What to Think, But My Brain Does...
I learned tonight that one of my best friends from highschool is gay. Now this stirs all sorts of emotions, questions, and thought processes, all of which may be written about at a later date. But the two most immediate, most pronounced, and most worth repeating (and the ones over which I had little to no conscious control) are, "Wow, I've never met a real, life gay person before," followed closely by, "Wrecked 'em?! Damn near killed 'em!"
Fiat Pudor
Last night, I was talking to Stacy (meam puellam) on the phone while getting progressively more drunk. A lot of it is a little hazy, but sticking out in my mind is an exchange wherein she said that she needed to make a sandwich, and would I mind talking to her mother for a minute? I put up a brief fight, complaining loudly that I would have to pretend that I wasn't drunk, etc. etc. But since I obviously had no way to stop her, the phone was given, and for about 45 seconds to a full minute, I was talking to my girlfriends mother, whom I've never met, and to whom I've never talked, while drunk. In my defense, I think I pulled it off admirably. There's no way she could have told from my speech that I was inebriated. All in all, it was a good conversation.
Then, after the phone was handed back, I said "Whew, that was tough. I had to stop my speech from slurring and everything."
The reply, "You know the phone is turned up really loud. She can hear what you say to me."
Half-believing, and mortified, "Even the stuff I said before I talked to her??"
Wry, "Even the stuff you said before you talked to her."
"..."
After a few seconds, I started laughing hysterically. What a night.
Then, after the phone was handed back, I said "Whew, that was tough. I had to stop my speech from slurring and everything."
The reply, "You know the phone is turned up really loud. She can hear what you say to me."
Half-believing, and mortified, "Even the stuff I said before I talked to her??"
Wry, "Even the stuff you said before you talked to her."
"..."
After a few seconds, I started laughing hysterically. What a night.
Cantaverunt
Well, I seem to have set my own standards for myself impossibly high with that post from a few days ago. So high, in fact, that I have self-induced writer's block. If I can't write about something meaningful, I might as well not write, eh? Well, screw that. I'm drunk, I'll write about whatever I want. I suppose that even the things that I think are "good" really aren't all that great anyway, so why worry, eh?
I've been listening to Irish drinking songs, specifically old traditional ones as performed by the Clancy Brothers and the Dubliners. Everyone ought to have at least a basic repertoire of Irish drinking, especially if they drink. I especially like A Jug of Punch, Tim Finnegan's Wake, The Rocky Road to Dublin, and Whiskey in the Jar. There are dozens more worthy of mention, but I leave them as exercises to the reader to discover and enjoy. Money quote from the Clancy Brothers, on A Jug of Punch: "It starts out very quietly, and very poetically... and rapidly deteriorates, just like a good night of drinking."
I've started running. Well, I tell myself that I have. I've only run twice, but if all goes well, this will be a regular, maybe even permanent thing. The ultimate goal is to be healthy and in shape, for my own benefit as well as for the girlfriend. It's really damn hard, considering that I haven't done any sort of regular exercise for at least three or four years. But I feel more alive and healthier than I have in a long time. I run around 3 miles or so, and toward the end I usually find my pace and start feeling a bit of runner's high. Being able to jump in the pool after the whole ordeal makes it all worth it.
Of course, I'm totally destroying any actual benefit the running may have by drinking myself to a stupor right now. But I don't really need to bother too much with that, as I'm skinny enough as it is. The running isn't for cosmetic reasons, it's for health reasons.
Speaking of music (jumping back to a few paragraphs ago), I have about five gigabytes of music from Dan to sort through and re-tag. (Using EasyTag of course.) A tedious task for sum, but, being the geek that I am, I'm rather happy at the prospect of listening to loud music whilst sorting through more of it. Oh, and choice picks from the music from Dan: "You Take My Breath Away" by The Knife, and "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division.
Perhaps I shall post more over the rest of the weekend, but not likely; I'm heading home tomorrow after I wake up and make sure that I'm not still drunk. So this post, far from meeting the criteria set by the previous one, will just have to do. Deal with it.
I've been listening to Irish drinking songs, specifically old traditional ones as performed by the Clancy Brothers and the Dubliners. Everyone ought to have at least a basic repertoire of Irish drinking, especially if they drink. I especially like A Jug of Punch, Tim Finnegan's Wake, The Rocky Road to Dublin, and Whiskey in the Jar. There are dozens more worthy of mention, but I leave them as exercises to the reader to discover and enjoy. Money quote from the Clancy Brothers, on A Jug of Punch: "It starts out very quietly, and very poetically... and rapidly deteriorates, just like a good night of drinking."
I've started running. Well, I tell myself that I have. I've only run twice, but if all goes well, this will be a regular, maybe even permanent thing. The ultimate goal is to be healthy and in shape, for my own benefit as well as for the girlfriend. It's really damn hard, considering that I haven't done any sort of regular exercise for at least three or four years. But I feel more alive and healthier than I have in a long time. I run around 3 miles or so, and toward the end I usually find my pace and start feeling a bit of runner's high. Being able to jump in the pool after the whole ordeal makes it all worth it.
Of course, I'm totally destroying any actual benefit the running may have by drinking myself to a stupor right now. But I don't really need to bother too much with that, as I'm skinny enough as it is. The running isn't for cosmetic reasons, it's for health reasons.
Speaking of music (jumping back to a few paragraphs ago), I have about five gigabytes of music from Dan to sort through and re-tag. (Using EasyTag of course.) A tedious task for sum, but, being the geek that I am, I'm rather happy at the prospect of listening to loud music whilst sorting through more of it. Oh, and choice picks from the music from Dan: "You Take My Breath Away" by The Knife, and "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division.
Perhaps I shall post more over the rest of the weekend, but not likely; I'm heading home tomorrow after I wake up and make sure that I'm not still drunk. So this post, far from meeting the criteria set by the previous one, will just have to do. Deal with it.
Stocking the Bar
The bookmark for my copy of The Bartender's Guide is the pay stub from my recently cashed paycheck. This means something, I'm sure...
Dvorak?
As of right now, I have decided to try the Dvorak keyboard layout In fact, this entire post was written using it It took me fifteen minutes to write. Not too bad, considering that I have no reference at all, and I'm doing it blind, eh?
Estne Omnis Vitae Narratio?
Blogging has been light (actually, non-existant) for the past few days because (1) I was home all weekend, and (2) there's been a dearth of anything very interesting happening. Of course, I suppose "interesting" is all in the eye of the beholder, and of the teller. So perhaps if I were less tired and exhausted, I would be able to take the same events that have occured to me over the past few days and find something around which I could construct an interesting and thought-provoking narrative.
That's probably the mark of a good author - one who can make the mundane interesting. Then there's always plenty of material. Well, that's not quite accurate. It's not "making the mundane interesting." You can't make something into something it's not. But rather, one much "see the interesting in the superficially mundane." That's a bit of a challenge, I suppose. Or not even a challenge. It's not like you can just take some random event and get enough out of it to writing a meaningful narrative about it. Not only does there have to be something meaningful about the event, but you have to be connected to it on such a level that you can actually be invested in the narrative. The quote of the day a week or so ago was from Henry David Thoreau. "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." So, you have to live the events, or at least be close enough to them that you have fully internalized them, then you can purge the dross and write a narrative that is worthwhile.
Now I've defined the problem. I must live an interesting life, and then be able to recognize the parts that are interesting enough to be put to writing. Then I must write them in such a way that the interest that I see in them is also seen by others. A tall order. I think that the "interesting life" part is actually moot. Anyone's life is probably interesting enough that something profound could be written about it. And I'm certainly no exception. When I was in 5th grade, I carefully considered each of my classmates, one by one, to determine which one was the most normal. I couldn't decide, and later on I realized that this is because no one is "normal." This isn't one of those gushy, self-esteem raising, "everyone is special!" things, it's just an observation that there is something unique and interesting in everyone's life. Whether it's the circumstances of their life, or the person themself, and whether the recognize it or not, no one is completely normal, and everyone leads an interesting life.
So the challege now becomes to recognize events of interest when they happen, and to write them into a narrative when they do. I suppose something like this post is exactly what I'm shooting for - an event that is, on the surface, relatively innocuous. But when you think on it a bit more, maybe there's something there that's worth writing down. Maybe if I review the events of the weekend, I'll find something worth writing, now that I have a better idea of what to look for. The mundane is often not quite so mundane, if looked at closely. I have a feeling that if I just sit down and start writing about minor things that happened, something worthwhile might leap out. It's certainly happened before, and is yet another proof of the value of putting things into narrative.
But anyway, what I was saying at first before I got sidetracked was that nothing really interesting happened this weekend, so there was no blogging, and maybe I'll pick it up tomorrow.
That's probably the mark of a good author - one who can make the mundane interesting. Then there's always plenty of material. Well, that's not quite accurate. It's not "making the mundane interesting." You can't make something into something it's not. But rather, one much "see the interesting in the superficially mundane." That's a bit of a challenge, I suppose. Or not even a challenge. It's not like you can just take some random event and get enough out of it to writing a meaningful narrative about it. Not only does there have to be something meaningful about the event, but you have to be connected to it on such a level that you can actually be invested in the narrative. The quote of the day a week or so ago was from Henry David Thoreau. "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." So, you have to live the events, or at least be close enough to them that you have fully internalized them, then you can purge the dross and write a narrative that is worthwhile.
Now I've defined the problem. I must live an interesting life, and then be able to recognize the parts that are interesting enough to be put to writing. Then I must write them in such a way that the interest that I see in them is also seen by others. A tall order. I think that the "interesting life" part is actually moot. Anyone's life is probably interesting enough that something profound could be written about it. And I'm certainly no exception. When I was in 5th grade, I carefully considered each of my classmates, one by one, to determine which one was the most normal. I couldn't decide, and later on I realized that this is because no one is "normal." This isn't one of those gushy, self-esteem raising, "everyone is special!" things, it's just an observation that there is something unique and interesting in everyone's life. Whether it's the circumstances of their life, or the person themself, and whether the recognize it or not, no one is completely normal, and everyone leads an interesting life.
So the challege now becomes to recognize events of interest when they happen, and to write them into a narrative when they do. I suppose something like this post is exactly what I'm shooting for - an event that is, on the surface, relatively innocuous. But when you think on it a bit more, maybe there's something there that's worth writing down. Maybe if I review the events of the weekend, I'll find something worth writing, now that I have a better idea of what to look for. The mundane is often not quite so mundane, if looked at closely. I have a feeling that if I just sit down and start writing about minor things that happened, something worthwhile might leap out. It's certainly happened before, and is yet another proof of the value of putting things into narrative.
But anyway, what I was saying at first before I got sidetracked was that nothing really interesting happened this weekend, so there was no blogging, and maybe I'll pick it up tomorrow.
Letter to the Editor
Two days ago, the local newspaper ran this article.
A couple of the points on here were complete bull, so today, I sent in this letter to the editor:
I am writing in response to Mr. Ron Leix's June 7th article concerning the rejection of the proposal to close a portion of College Street. Without discussing the relative merits of the proposal, I would like to point out some half-truths used by both sides in this argument.
Mr. Tim Dixon, a resident on Summit Street was quoted saying that "there has never been a pedestrian crossing on College Street." I was not present at the meeting, and so have no idea if he was speaking seriously or if he was purposely exaggerating. However, I can attest that there are dozens of students from the various fraternity houses and off-campus houses (myself included) who cross College Street at least twice daily. There is a legitimate reason to be concerned for the safety of these students, because many of them do not go out of their way to cross at one of the ends where the traffic has a stop sign. Whether or not this is a legitimate reason for closing a street is up for debate, but to say that there is no pedestrian traffic on College Street is completely false.
This having been said, however, I also have issue with Hillsdale College's reasons for requesting the road closure. They claim to have the safety of the students as the first and foremost concern. But looking a little more closely, it seems to me that the most important thing to the college is the beautification if its campus. This is a noble goal, to be sure, but not one that should be pursued under the guise of student safety while hundreds of students cross West Street and Hillsdale Street every day without so much as a "Slow - Pedestrians" sign. Perhaps the college should look into these more pressing issues of student safety before it seeks a solution that happens to improve the aesthetic of the campus far more than it increases the safety of its students.
The residents need to realize that there is a legitimate safety issue, and the college needs to acknowledge its ulterior motive. Both sides have arguments that are compelling and worthy of consideration, but I would be much more sympathetic to both if they would be more careful with the truth.
Carl Lucas
Hillsdale College Student
A couple of the points on here were complete bull, so today, I sent in this letter to the editor:
I am writing in response to Mr. Ron Leix's June 7th article concerning the rejection of the proposal to close a portion of College Street. Without discussing the relative merits of the proposal, I would like to point out some half-truths used by both sides in this argument.
Mr. Tim Dixon, a resident on Summit Street was quoted saying that "there has never been a pedestrian crossing on College Street." I was not present at the meeting, and so have no idea if he was speaking seriously or if he was purposely exaggerating. However, I can attest that there are dozens of students from the various fraternity houses and off-campus houses (myself included) who cross College Street at least twice daily. There is a legitimate reason to be concerned for the safety of these students, because many of them do not go out of their way to cross at one of the ends where the traffic has a stop sign. Whether or not this is a legitimate reason for closing a street is up for debate, but to say that there is no pedestrian traffic on College Street is completely false.
This having been said, however, I also have issue with Hillsdale College's reasons for requesting the road closure. They claim to have the safety of the students as the first and foremost concern. But looking a little more closely, it seems to me that the most important thing to the college is the beautification if its campus. This is a noble goal, to be sure, but not one that should be pursued under the guise of student safety while hundreds of students cross West Street and Hillsdale Street every day without so much as a "Slow - Pedestrians" sign. Perhaps the college should look into these more pressing issues of student safety before it seeks a solution that happens to improve the aesthetic of the campus far more than it increases the safety of its students.
The residents need to realize that there is a legitimate safety issue, and the college needs to acknowledge its ulterior motive. Both sides have arguments that are compelling and worthy of consideration, but I would be much more sympathetic to both if they would be more careful with the truth.
Carl Lucas
Hillsdale College Student
Haec Longa Fabella...
The easiest way to avoid a question you don't want to answer is by saying, "Well, it's a long story." I've used this on numerous occasions. People hear this, and immediately realize that they'll have to actually pay serious attention, and invest both time and brain power to actually get an answer to their question. Usually, this is enough to deter just about anyone. So not only do you not have to answer the question, but you make it seem like it's them who is not continuing the line of inquiry.
But occasionally, someone will actually say, "I've got time," or, "Go on..." For most people, this would be the point where they admit that they actually have nothing. That the "long story" was just a ruse to avoid explaining something. But I'm never foiled. Unlike some people of little imagination, I actually do have a story to back it up. Sure, it's always the same story. But it is quite truthful. Everything in my life worth talking about does seem to relate back to this one story. Or at least, all of my stories seem to have their ultimate beginnings with this one set of events. It involves me spending a lot of time at the local library after I moved to Monroe, Michigan during the summer after 6th Grade.
From this point, it branches out to a wide variety of events. And that wide variety of events has practically enveloped my life and experience since that point. How did I really become a geek? It was that summer, and the books I got from the library that did it. How did I come to have an interest in language? That summer at the library. When did I become interested in drinking? Well, it wasn't directly from that summer at the library, but it's easy enough to trace it back it. [Theses aren't necessarily the three things that must be mentioned, just the three things that happen to come to my drunken mind at the moment. --ed.] I suppose that that was the summer where I began to both rebel from and flee to the morality my parents had set up for me. I've come to accept it as both logical and right, but there was a time (mainly freshman year of college) where I doubted everything I had learned from them. It was a summer of discovery, though at the time I didn't know it.
For the first time, I was reading things that my parents weren't recommending. I was thinking about things that my parents hadn't discussed with me. I was becoming my own person. I suppose that everyone has one of those times, where they become themselves rather than what they have been molded to be. Or maybe there are those who go through life without ever reaching a plane of thought higher than what they obtained in their first 10 years of living. If anyone goes through life this way, I pity them. I had no idea at the time, but that summer was probably one of the defining moments in my life. I suppose that the influence of my parents and my early upbringing was carried over through this change, but it was at this point that I decided which predispositions I would (unconsciously) discard and keep.
Looking back at 6th grade in Fort Wayne vs. 7th grade in Monroe, I can tell that I was a dramatically different person. Reclusive v. sociable, smart-alec v. smart, and even (dare I say it?) pessimist v. optimist. Sure, I've regressed occasionally, but for the most part I'm a much happier person. That summer was a true "coming of age." And I very much enjoy the age I came to.
So what creates these moments of self-reflection? The moments where everything seems to change (when you look back on it)? Actually, when I think long and hard about it, and when I'm completely honest with myself, I suppose the moment of change came when I decided to change. And this was not during the summer after 6th grade, it was durning 6th grade itself. The specifics are burried by my poor memory, but the general feeling is there. I finally realized that I was unhappy, and that it was within my power to change this. I knew that we were going to be moving somewhere new, and that I would meet a completely new set of people. So, I reasoned, I would have a fresh slate. And this time I would not screw up as I had in the past. I decided to change my life, and it worked.
So, for 7th and 8th grade, I tried being a different person. It was better, but not perfect. So when highschool came along and I had another tabula rasa, I made the most of it and changed myelf (slightly) again. It worked through highschool and three semesters of college, then I needed another change. Now I've been pretty much the exact same person for a year and a half, and I think I've hit the jackpot. This isn't to say that I'm a different person from what I was in 7th and 8th grade. Since the summer after 6th grade, I've been myself the whole time. I became myself in that summer. But I've presented different faces to the world since then.
And what of the future? Maybe I'll have to change the way I deal with the world once again. But I have a feeling that such a change will be a minor matter of cosmetics. As it is, I am content with myself. I can deal with everyone that I meet. I have discovered the elusive secret of how to talk to girls ( ;) ). I get along with most people. And I have an easy way to give a long story explaining difficult questions.
But occasionally, someone will actually say, "I've got time," or, "Go on..." For most people, this would be the point where they admit that they actually have nothing. That the "long story" was just a ruse to avoid explaining something. But I'm never foiled. Unlike some people of little imagination, I actually do have a story to back it up. Sure, it's always the same story. But it is quite truthful. Everything in my life worth talking about does seem to relate back to this one story. Or at least, all of my stories seem to have their ultimate beginnings with this one set of events. It involves me spending a lot of time at the local library after I moved to Monroe, Michigan during the summer after 6th Grade.
From this point, it branches out to a wide variety of events. And that wide variety of events has practically enveloped my life and experience since that point. How did I really become a geek? It was that summer, and the books I got from the library that did it. How did I come to have an interest in language? That summer at the library. When did I become interested in drinking? Well, it wasn't directly from that summer at the library, but it's easy enough to trace it back it. [Theses aren't necessarily the three things that must be mentioned, just the three things that happen to come to my drunken mind at the moment. --ed.] I suppose that that was the summer where I began to both rebel from and flee to the morality my parents had set up for me. I've come to accept it as both logical and right, but there was a time (mainly freshman year of college) where I doubted everything I had learned from them. It was a summer of discovery, though at the time I didn't know it.
For the first time, I was reading things that my parents weren't recommending. I was thinking about things that my parents hadn't discussed with me. I was becoming my own person. I suppose that everyone has one of those times, where they become themselves rather than what they have been molded to be. Or maybe there are those who go through life without ever reaching a plane of thought higher than what they obtained in their first 10 years of living. If anyone goes through life this way, I pity them. I had no idea at the time, but that summer was probably one of the defining moments in my life. I suppose that the influence of my parents and my early upbringing was carried over through this change, but it was at this point that I decided which predispositions I would (unconsciously) discard and keep.
Looking back at 6th grade in Fort Wayne vs. 7th grade in Monroe, I can tell that I was a dramatically different person. Reclusive v. sociable, smart-alec v. smart, and even (dare I say it?) pessimist v. optimist. Sure, I've regressed occasionally, but for the most part I'm a much happier person. That summer was a true "coming of age." And I very much enjoy the age I came to.
So what creates these moments of self-reflection? The moments where everything seems to change (when you look back on it)? Actually, when I think long and hard about it, and when I'm completely honest with myself, I suppose the moment of change came when I decided to change. And this was not during the summer after 6th grade, it was durning 6th grade itself. The specifics are burried by my poor memory, but the general feeling is there. I finally realized that I was unhappy, and that it was within my power to change this. I knew that we were going to be moving somewhere new, and that I would meet a completely new set of people. So, I reasoned, I would have a fresh slate. And this time I would not screw up as I had in the past. I decided to change my life, and it worked.
So, for 7th and 8th grade, I tried being a different person. It was better, but not perfect. So when highschool came along and I had another tabula rasa, I made the most of it and changed myelf (slightly) again. It worked through highschool and three semesters of college, then I needed another change. Now I've been pretty much the exact same person for a year and a half, and I think I've hit the jackpot. This isn't to say that I'm a different person from what I was in 7th and 8th grade. Since the summer after 6th grade, I've been myself the whole time. I became myself in that summer. But I've presented different faces to the world since then.
And what of the future? Maybe I'll have to change the way I deal with the world once again. But I have a feeling that such a change will be a minor matter of cosmetics. As it is, I am content with myself. I can deal with everyone that I meet. I have discovered the elusive secret of how to talk to girls ( ;) ). I get along with most people. And I have an easy way to give a long story explaining difficult questions.
Ah, Summer...
The only thing better than being able to jump 15 feet into your pool through a cut-out area of your living room floor, then floating about sedatedly is being able to go back upstairs to said living room and have cold beer on tap at your bar. Yes, I can do all of this at the place I'm at this summer.
Quidni?
If you don't know what an operating system is, or if you've never heard the word Linux before in your life, or if you just don't feel that comfortable around computers, you might want to skip this one.
I use Linux*. This simple sentence illicits three distinct responses from those to whom I say it. The first is a blank stare of utter confusion. The second is a sort of a wrinkled-nose, "what kind of masochistic freak are you?" shudder. The third is a sort of a respectful "ohhh!". The third has happened maybe three or four times, ever. Even then, it's only a matter of time before the inevitable question is asked, the question which has haunted me for four long years: Why?
They ask the impossible. Well, not really, there are plenty of ways to answer it, but the answer they want is both short, yet fully explanatory. They want to know the specific benefits of Linux, they want them fully explained, and they want them in a paragraph or less. I can't do this. It would be like trying to explain why you like manual trasmission over automatic (or vice versa) to someone who doesn't know what a car is, except a lot more complicated. To really understand why I use Linux, you need at least a surface-level grasp of computers, operating systems, and computer programming. But, to spare people the agony of actually learning about the things that have become ubiquitous and necessary for daily operation of just about anything, I'll try to explain it without going into too much technical detail.
First, a car analogy, on the same tack as the earlier one: Using Windows is like using a car that is completely automated. The transmission is automatic, the windshield wipers don't come on unless it's raining, the heat and air conditioning is regulated by a temperature sensor, and so on. Fine in theory, except that the hood is welded shut. All you can do is point it in the direction you want to go and hit the gas, hoping that it doesn't break down. The manual is a few pages, detailing what a great investment you just made. Linux, on the other hand, has nothing automated. Manual transmission, wipers that don't even have an intermittent setting, and it probably doesn't even have air conditioning. But not only is the hood openable, but everything is modular, so you can add the parts that you want to automate, and you can keep control of the things you want to. Plus, it comes with a manual that's thousands of pages. Hard to find what you're looking for? Yeah, but chances are that it's in there, and you're sure to come across other interesting stuff while you're looking.
OK, that analogy is convoluted, and I drug it along too far. Forget it. Specifics: I use Linux because I can install it for free, and start writing programs for it right away, without some expensive developer suite. I use Linux because when something goes wrong, I can find out exactly what went wrong - my error message doesn't get sent to some faceless server somewhere, it gets sent to me , and I have the freedom to do with it what I will - if I have the skill to trace it back to its source, I can do so. Windows doesn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I use Linux because all of the fun little things that the casual programmer wants to do can be done with no hassle, while in Windows there's no easy way to do them. I use Linux because it's possible to organize your desktop in any way that you want to. Seriously, the sky's the limit. Windows doesn't offer that, Apple doesn't offer that - only Linux and other free operating systems offer that. I use Linux because it never crashes. I use Linux because the software is more configurable. I use Linux because there are more software options. I use Linux because it makes playing around on the computer fun again.
There are people who use free operating systems because of ideological principles which hold proprietary software (basically any software that you have to pay for) is inherently bad, and that it is a social problem. I don't know about that. I suppose I haven't given it much thought. But I do know that the free/open source software that is Linux is superior in design. If Microsoft came out with something better, would I use it? Possibly. That's a topic for another post. All that matters for this post is that the philosophy behind free software is not currently one of the reasons that I use it.
To avoid having to bore people by explaining all of the above, my old standby is "I use Linux because it doesn't suck." People don't really like this because it doesn't give specifics. But there are just too many specifics to list. Usually, I just use the standby, then cop out by saying, "oh, I just like it" or "oh, it would take too long to explain." But, having written out the long answer (well, the medium answer, there are tons of other reasons), it has become a bit clearer to me. So perhaps this is the closest I can come to explaining why I use Linux: I use Linux because in every single metric that matters to me it is superior to Windows.
*[Technically the thing refered to as "Linux" thoughout this post is really GNU/Linux, but for the sake of brevity, and because I hate the GNU project and want to minimize its importance as much as possible, it shall be refered to as "Linux". (That last bit about GNU was a joke, I love GNU, but I find that its silly insistence on prefixing its name to the collective entity that is the Linux kernel and the GNU tools to be at best silly and at worst dangerously off-putting to the casually interested person.) --ed.]
I use Linux*. This simple sentence illicits three distinct responses from those to whom I say it. The first is a blank stare of utter confusion. The second is a sort of a wrinkled-nose, "what kind of masochistic freak are you?" shudder. The third is a sort of a respectful "ohhh!". The third has happened maybe three or four times, ever. Even then, it's only a matter of time before the inevitable question is asked, the question which has haunted me for four long years: Why?
They ask the impossible. Well, not really, there are plenty of ways to answer it, but the answer they want is both short, yet fully explanatory. They want to know the specific benefits of Linux, they want them fully explained, and they want them in a paragraph or less. I can't do this. It would be like trying to explain why you like manual trasmission over automatic (or vice versa) to someone who doesn't know what a car is, except a lot more complicated. To really understand why I use Linux, you need at least a surface-level grasp of computers, operating systems, and computer programming. But, to spare people the agony of actually learning about the things that have become ubiquitous and necessary for daily operation of just about anything, I'll try to explain it without going into too much technical detail.
First, a car analogy, on the same tack as the earlier one: Using Windows is like using a car that is completely automated. The transmission is automatic, the windshield wipers don't come on unless it's raining, the heat and air conditioning is regulated by a temperature sensor, and so on. Fine in theory, except that the hood is welded shut. All you can do is point it in the direction you want to go and hit the gas, hoping that it doesn't break down. The manual is a few pages, detailing what a great investment you just made. Linux, on the other hand, has nothing automated. Manual transmission, wipers that don't even have an intermittent setting, and it probably doesn't even have air conditioning. But not only is the hood openable, but everything is modular, so you can add the parts that you want to automate, and you can keep control of the things you want to. Plus, it comes with a manual that's thousands of pages. Hard to find what you're looking for? Yeah, but chances are that it's in there, and you're sure to come across other interesting stuff while you're looking.
OK, that analogy is convoluted, and I drug it along too far. Forget it. Specifics: I use Linux because I can install it for free, and start writing programs for it right away, without some expensive developer suite. I use Linux because when something goes wrong, I can find out exactly what went wrong - my error message doesn't get sent to some faceless server somewhere, it gets sent to me , and I have the freedom to do with it what I will - if I have the skill to trace it back to its source, I can do so. Windows doesn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I use Linux because all of the fun little things that the casual programmer wants to do can be done with no hassle, while in Windows there's no easy way to do them. I use Linux because it's possible to organize your desktop in any way that you want to. Seriously, the sky's the limit. Windows doesn't offer that, Apple doesn't offer that - only Linux and other free operating systems offer that. I use Linux because it never crashes. I use Linux because the software is more configurable. I use Linux because there are more software options. I use Linux because it makes playing around on the computer fun again.
There are people who use free operating systems because of ideological principles which hold proprietary software (basically any software that you have to pay for) is inherently bad, and that it is a social problem. I don't know about that. I suppose I haven't given it much thought. But I do know that the free/open source software that is Linux is superior in design. If Microsoft came out with something better, would I use it? Possibly. That's a topic for another post. All that matters for this post is that the philosophy behind free software is not currently one of the reasons that I use it.
To avoid having to bore people by explaining all of the above, my old standby is "I use Linux because it doesn't suck." People don't really like this because it doesn't give specifics. But there are just too many specifics to list. Usually, I just use the standby, then cop out by saying, "oh, I just like it" or "oh, it would take too long to explain." But, having written out the long answer (well, the medium answer, there are tons of other reasons), it has become a bit clearer to me. So perhaps this is the closest I can come to explaining why I use Linux: I use Linux because in every single metric that matters to me it is superior to Windows.
*[Technically the thing refered to as "Linux" thoughout this post is really GNU/Linux, but for the sake of brevity, and because I hate the GNU project and want to minimize its importance as much as possible, it shall be refered to as "Linux". (That last bit about GNU was a joke, I love GNU, but I find that its silly insistence on prefixing its name to the collective entity that is the Linux kernel and the GNU tools to be at best silly and at worst dangerously off-putting to the casually interested person.) --ed.]
Damn I'm Good
My laptop died on Friday. On Saturday, I got fed up with not having a computer. Two hours and $16 worth of soldering equipment later, and my laptop works again.
The ICANN Can Suck It
In a move to convince the masses that it actually does something useful, the ICANN has recently added some new top-level domains, the most prominent of these (in terms of press coverage) being the .xxx domain.
As far as I can tell, all that adding TLDs does is harm businesses and confuse consumers. Think about it: sure, "microsoft.xxx" is now open, but either (a) Microsoft is going to have to expend time and money to register the domain or (b) someone else will get the domain and it just confuses people who are looking for Microsoft. (OK, this is far less likely with the .xxx, but keep in mind that there are at least 6 other TLDs that have been approved.) Basically what it comes down to is that people remember websites by the main domain name, not the TLD. Adding new TLDs does not increase the namespace, it just makes it more confusing. It's already confusing enough between .com, .net, and .org. I can't count the number of times I've gone to gentoo.net looking for gentoo.org. At best, the new TLDs are a needless expenditure. At worst, they cost companies money in lost sales. So, the ICANN can suck it. Q.E.D.
As far as I can tell, all that adding TLDs does is harm businesses and confuse consumers. Think about it: sure, "microsoft.xxx" is now open, but either (a) Microsoft is going to have to expend time and money to register the domain or (b) someone else will get the domain and it just confuses people who are looking for Microsoft. (OK, this is far less likely with the .xxx, but keep in mind that there are at least 6 other TLDs that have been approved.) Basically what it comes down to is that people remember websites by the main domain name, not the TLD. Adding new TLDs does not increase the namespace, it just makes it more confusing. It's already confusing enough between .com, .net, and .org. I can't count the number of times I've gone to gentoo.net looking for gentoo.org. At best, the new TLDs are a needless expenditure. At worst, they cost companies money in lost sales. So, the ICANN can suck it. Q.E.D.
The Sweet Smell of Successs
Ha! I was so damn right! Money quote:
In celebration, I put on SpeedStick Alpine Fresh (August '02 - February '03) after changing out of my work clothes.
"More than any other sense, the sense of smell circumnavigates the logical part of the brain," the RAC Foundation's consultant psychologist, Conrad King, said.
In celebration, I put on SpeedStick Alpine Fresh (August '02 - February '03) after changing out of my work clothes.
De Conscientia
This was written without any assumptions of religion. It turned out to be (though it by no means began as) a record of me questioning the idea that humans have a congenital conscience, an idea which I've come to question as of late. I'm still not sure what I think. I've reached a conclusion if religion is removed from the picture, but (for me), it isn't, so I suppose I'll have to look more closely at Christian philosophy and doctrine to have an educated answer.
A few days ago, I was hanging out in Ann Arbor with a few friends. Whilst we perused the shelves of a used book store, one friend was talking loudly and incessantly to the other one. This bugged me because it seemed to me like it was s situation where one should be quiet. Not necessarily like a library, where it's a rule, but the atmosphere of the place, not to mention common courtesy for other readers, made it seem like a place where one should whisper. It made me uncomfortable. When I brought this up with the friend, I was blown off. Obviously this person didn't think that it was such a bad thing. So was I just being overly prudish, or was the friend being rude?
Neither of us believed that we were wrong. That is to say, two diametrically opposed viewpoints were fully and truly believed to be correct. I suppose it's because we were raised differently. Culture differences and so on. So, if you're taking the larger view, neither of us was right or wrong in the classic sense of the word. I was right in my own mind, though the friend thought I was wrong. I suppose that this is cultural relativism.
How should such a dispute be decided? Sure, this was a minor thing. But even about this, we were utterly incapable of comprehending the other's position on anything but an intellectual level. How much worse would it be for a tribe whose ancient rituals involve cannibalism, and the more urbane government who is trying to stop them? The two parties are incapable of coming to an agreement without destroying an essential part of who they are (read Peter Shaffer's Equus for more on this tack). The tribe would obviously lose its cultural identity if it gave in and stopped the ritual, and the government would violate its own laws (assuming that murder is illegal in this hypothetical government) if it allowed the ritual to continue. So which one is right?
Having reached this seemingly impassable quagmire, we might have to backtrack, to see if an incorrect assumption was made. We have two groups, one which considers and action wrong, and one which considers the same thing to be right. We don't want to say that one group should automatically be granted sovereignty over the other because of its advanced technology or size, because that would be blind imperialism. Similarly, we don't want to allow a small group to be an exception to the law of the land, because doing so makes the law useless. Perhaps the government should grant the tribe its own sovereign nation? Yes, the government washes its hands of the whole thing, and allows the tribe to continue its cannibalism. Everyone is happy.
Except for the people getting eaten. OK, this is just ridiculous. I cannot be convinced that there is not an absolute set of morals. Maybe certain things, such as talking loudly in a bookstore, are relative and not governed by morality, but murder is. Or it should be. But maybe not? Sure, we can talk about "basic human rights," such as a right to live, but these are all artificial constructions. "Rights" are granted by other people, not by nature (does the ocean that you're drowning in let you miraculously float to shore because it's your right to live? (See Starship Troopers for more on this.)). So there is no naturally granted set of rights that a human is granted by virtue of his or her existence. [Maybe this is where animal rights come in - they're granted the same artificially constructed rights that we are? --ed]
But everyone talks about rights. Are they just misguided? No, I don't think so. We may be ignoring any divinely or naturally inspired morality that may exist, but morality can stem from logic. Using the continuation and increased prosperity of humanity (or even of the individual) as a goal, and taking a wide enough look at the situation, a system of morality that is very similar to religion-based morality emerges. [Does this help or hinder the case of religion? Is it proof that religion evolved as a way to continue the human race, and has no actual supernaturality to it? Or is it proof that religion is divinely inspired, because some primitive people got it, while others didn't? --ed] But there are some tribes that just don't get it, at least not fully. They still practice ritual sacrifice, violating both logical morals and the morality of various religions (though not their own...). Hell, there are plenty of murders and other moral wrongs in our own society. Why? If morality can be found logically, why has it not fully taken over?
Perhaps because human beings are inherently evil? Or maybe the logic isn't as obvious to some as it is to others. If one doesn't step back and look at the big picture, then the logic means nothing. Working for short-term gains, without taking in to account the necessary long-term consequences is bound to lead people to justify immoral acts. And perhaps this is the definition of evil. If it is, then yes, human beings are inherently evil, because no one looks at the big picture if they are not taught to do so early in their formative years. (Dogville is especially interesting to watch with this in mind.)
I suppose this is where it all meets. Humans have no in-born moral compass. At least, none that I can imagine without religion. The little voice that we call our conscience is just a vocalization of the cultural norms with which we were raised. We have nothing guiding our actions, nothing upholding our rights, nothing maintaining morality [nothing stopping us from talking loudly in a bookstore --ed.] except for the critical logic, open minds, and foresight of humanity. May God have mercy on our souls.
A few days ago, I was hanging out in Ann Arbor with a few friends. Whilst we perused the shelves of a used book store, one friend was talking loudly and incessantly to the other one. This bugged me because it seemed to me like it was s situation where one should be quiet. Not necessarily like a library, where it's a rule, but the atmosphere of the place, not to mention common courtesy for other readers, made it seem like a place where one should whisper. It made me uncomfortable. When I brought this up with the friend, I was blown off. Obviously this person didn't think that it was such a bad thing. So was I just being overly prudish, or was the friend being rude?
Neither of us believed that we were wrong. That is to say, two diametrically opposed viewpoints were fully and truly believed to be correct. I suppose it's because we were raised differently. Culture differences and so on. So, if you're taking the larger view, neither of us was right or wrong in the classic sense of the word. I was right in my own mind, though the friend thought I was wrong. I suppose that this is cultural relativism.
How should such a dispute be decided? Sure, this was a minor thing. But even about this, we were utterly incapable of comprehending the other's position on anything but an intellectual level. How much worse would it be for a tribe whose ancient rituals involve cannibalism, and the more urbane government who is trying to stop them? The two parties are incapable of coming to an agreement without destroying an essential part of who they are (read Peter Shaffer's Equus for more on this tack). The tribe would obviously lose its cultural identity if it gave in and stopped the ritual, and the government would violate its own laws (assuming that murder is illegal in this hypothetical government) if it allowed the ritual to continue. So which one is right?
Having reached this seemingly impassable quagmire, we might have to backtrack, to see if an incorrect assumption was made. We have two groups, one which considers and action wrong, and one which considers the same thing to be right. We don't want to say that one group should automatically be granted sovereignty over the other because of its advanced technology or size, because that would be blind imperialism. Similarly, we don't want to allow a small group to be an exception to the law of the land, because doing so makes the law useless. Perhaps the government should grant the tribe its own sovereign nation? Yes, the government washes its hands of the whole thing, and allows the tribe to continue its cannibalism. Everyone is happy.
Except for the people getting eaten. OK, this is just ridiculous. I cannot be convinced that there is not an absolute set of morals. Maybe certain things, such as talking loudly in a bookstore, are relative and not governed by morality, but murder is. Or it should be. But maybe not? Sure, we can talk about "basic human rights," such as a right to live, but these are all artificial constructions. "Rights" are granted by other people, not by nature (does the ocean that you're drowning in let you miraculously float to shore because it's your right to live? (See Starship Troopers for more on this.)). So there is no naturally granted set of rights that a human is granted by virtue of his or her existence. [Maybe this is where animal rights come in - they're granted the same artificially constructed rights that we are? --ed]
But everyone talks about rights. Are they just misguided? No, I don't think so. We may be ignoring any divinely or naturally inspired morality that may exist, but morality can stem from logic. Using the continuation and increased prosperity of humanity (or even of the individual) as a goal, and taking a wide enough look at the situation, a system of morality that is very similar to religion-based morality emerges. [Does this help or hinder the case of religion? Is it proof that religion evolved as a way to continue the human race, and has no actual supernaturality to it? Or is it proof that religion is divinely inspired, because some primitive people got it, while others didn't? --ed] But there are some tribes that just don't get it, at least not fully. They still practice ritual sacrifice, violating both logical morals and the morality of various religions (though not their own...). Hell, there are plenty of murders and other moral wrongs in our own society. Why? If morality can be found logically, why has it not fully taken over?
Perhaps because human beings are inherently evil? Or maybe the logic isn't as obvious to some as it is to others. If one doesn't step back and look at the big picture, then the logic means nothing. Working for short-term gains, without taking in to account the necessary long-term consequences is bound to lead people to justify immoral acts. And perhaps this is the definition of evil. If it is, then yes, human beings are inherently evil, because no one looks at the big picture if they are not taught to do so early in their formative years. (Dogville is especially interesting to watch with this in mind.)
I suppose this is where it all meets. Humans have no in-born moral compass. At least, none that I can imagine without religion. The little voice that we call our conscience is just a vocalization of the cultural norms with which we were raised. We have nothing guiding our actions, nothing upholding our rights, nothing maintaining morality [nothing stopping us from talking loudly in a bookstore --ed.] except for the critical logic, open minds, and foresight of humanity. May God have mercy on our souls.